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I’m sitting surrounded by boxes. I’ve decided—while the market is slow—to take the leap that I’ve been eager to take for quite awhile: moving to a new apartment.

I’m thrilled and excited. The new place is a tad bigger, freshly remodeled, and overall a drastic improvement. I’ve been unhappy with my current apartment for years now, yet something always held me back from moving. Now I’m glad I waited.

Beyond the physicality of the space, there’s a deeper benefit I feel growing within myself when I think about this move. Many of my big life decisions have been made with fingers crossed, a deep breath, and a jump into the unknown. I’m good at leaps of faith. They’ve served me well.

This move has arisen from a different place. I know what I want now, and how I want to live. The future is no longer a blank page of pure possibility. If designing the life of your dreams is like painting a picture, I believe I have all the dark lines in place: the outlines, the broad strokes, the beginnings of what this thing will be. I see the full image in my mind’s eye, and every step I take toward it fills in a bit of color. This decision, at this time, has brightened things considerably.

That said, moving is proving to be a greater reality check than I had expected or even hoped for. I mean this in the best possible way. For a clutterbug such as myself, it’s a huge challenge to look at every single item in my space and have to give it a thumbs up or thumbs down. But I’m going about this move with intention—the things that come into the new space will be things that further my goals and bring pleasure to my life, nothing that detracts.

I don’t know what the future holds. I can only wait, and hope, and strive, and imagine. Keep painting that picture. I feel myself moving one step closer to something bigger, better and very worthwhile. A new chapter is beginning...